


Just Like Jack And Sally

by von_gelmini



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Fix-It, I guess? IDEK what that means anymore, M/M, Magical Realism, Nightmare Before Christmas AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:37:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/pseuds/von_gelmini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James got split in two. It's a good thing Gazelle just covered him with a sheet and didn't check the body.</p>
<p>It’s not <em>exactly </em>Jack and Sally, it’s Percy and Sally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Jack And Sally

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elletromil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/gifts).



> Oops! I forgot to put this story onto AO3.

Lancelot lay very, _very_ still. Both halves of him did. He kept his eyes closed as the woman with the swords for feet covered him with sheets. She didn’t seem to notice that despite having been bisected straight down the middle, there was very little blood pooling around either part of him. The covers were a consideration for her employer, who on his entry, explained to Professor Arnold that he couldn’t stand the sight of blood. It took everything James had not to laugh. But if he laughed, then… Gazelle, he heard him call her… would’ve perhaps examined his “corpse” more closely. No, James pretended to be dead and waited.

It seemed like it took forever – Richmond Valentine liked to listen to himself talk – before James was left alone in the dark cabin with the bodies of the henchmen he had shot dead. For real dead, not just pretend like he was. Even then, he waited longer still, until the dawn began to come in the windows, to make certain that no one was coming back to check on them. Only then did he start trying to move his two parts closer together. With just one hand and one foot on either side, it wasn’t easy to get himself uncovered and pulled close enough together.

Only Percival knew about his special ability. He would’ve kept it a secret from him, but they’d been on mission together when some over-dramatic villain decided to chop off James’ hand. He of course played up the pain, screaming and rolling around so no one would notice the lack of blood spurting everywhere. And while he made his distraction, his hand crept silently over to Alastair, untying his bound hands and feet. As soon as he was untied, Alastair dispatched the goon, looked over at James retrieving his hand, and promptly passed out. When he came to, James was putting the last few stitches into his wrist and flexing his fingers to check the attachment.

“Ah yes. I suppose you noticed that.”

“Noticed?” Alastair’s eyebrows arched to his hairline. “What on earth?”

“I’m not _entirely_ human, old chap.”

Alastair began to laugh uncontrollably.

“It’s all right. Really. I’m human enough where it counts. It’s just my parts…” he shrugged. “My parts they come apart sometimes. No big deal. Comes in quite… handy,” he said, wiggling his fingers again and chuckling at his bad pun. Alastair was bordering on the manic with his laughter, so James did the only thing he could think of to shock him out of it — he kissed him full on the lips. That was the start of their relationship. It would’ve made quite the story, if they could’ve told anyone about it.

After that, James began volunteering for the more reckless missions whenever they’d come up. He’d survive them, Alastair wouldn’t. He got a reputation for being foolhardy and careless and a show-off. But he always came back in one piece. Just perhaps with a new seam to be hidden by careful application of concealer makeup.

To be honest, when he felt Gazelle’s sword foot slice through his head, he wasn’t certain he’d come back from this one. He’d never had his head sliced in two before. But he woke up underneath the covers and had to start planning for how he’d stitch himself back together after this one.

He always had needles secreted in the seams of his clothing, sometimes even slipped in underneath whatever it was his skin was made of. He didn’t know how he came to be the way he was, only that he _was_ the way he was and he always had been. He propped his two halves up against a chair and started to sew. This was going to take a while.

By the time James made it back to London, Kingsman had already drunk its toast to him and candidates had been selected for his replacement. He couldn’t just waltz in and tell Arthur he was back. Eventually the old man would have to be told and they’d cross the bridge of having to deal with two Lancelots when they came to it. But right now it was more important he tell someone else.

Alastair wasn’t home when James unlocked the door. He considered his options. Sitting in the living room where he’d be seen right away? Too pedestrian. Going upstairs and waiting in their bed? Possibly. That would be a good laugh. But no. James had a better idea. He picked at the thread tail tucked into the seam of his wrist and pulled until his hand fell free. Carefully he placed it on Alastair’s pillow and then went to hide in the closet.

Little did his fellow Kingsman knights know that when truly startled, the stoic Percival screamed like a teeny tiny little girl.

“I’m going to kill you James! I’m going to find every single fucking thread and…”

Laughing, James stepped out of the closet. “And what, Percy?”

“Shut up and kiss me you bastard. I thought you were really dead this time.”


End file.
